


Abbeville

by Mara



Category: Secret Adventures of Jules Verne
Genre: Adventure, Friendship, Gen, Historical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-01
Updated: 2009-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-04 01:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mara/pseuds/Mara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rebecca and Jules visit an archaeological site in France. Things do not go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abbeville

**Author's Note:**

> If you don't believe in evolution, stop reading now. You have been warned. Still with me? Okay.

Paris was never a sedate city, and this café was no exception. Parisians argued, bustled, and laughed around them, but even sitting still Jules seemed to Rebecca to radiate an energy that dimmed the crowd around him.

"I was wondering if you'd like to go to Abbeville with me for a day or two," Rebecca asked Jules over lunch, as she toyed with a piece of chicken.

"Certainly, if you'd like me along, but why there?" Jules asked.

"I've been invited to visit the archaeological excavations in the Somme Valley and I thought you might like a tour. Apparently, a number of English scientists will be visiting and I happen to know one. His daughter and I grew up together."

Jules sat up straight, nearly plowing into a waitress trying to clear the table. "You mean de Perthes' excavations?"

"Yes, that's the man," Rebecca said.

"That's wonderful! He's top of the field in prehistory."

"Prehistory?" Rebecca blinked.

"Daniel Wilson coined the term. It's the period of time before written history, divided into three ages: the Stone Age, the Bronze Age, and the Iron Age. Boucher de Perthes works in the earliest period."

"I assume this means you'd like to go." Rebecca grinned at Jules, who was practically leaping out of his seat. "It's too bad Phileas and Passepartout had to go back to England, or we'd take the Aurora."

* * *

Rebecca's childhood friend, Amelia Connor, met Jules and Rebecca exiting the train in Abbeville. At a distance, Amelia looked like a typical delicate flower of English womanhood, slight and fair, but when she turned her intelligent eyes on them, Jules felt the force of a personality easily the equal of Rebecca Fogg.

"Amelia, it's been years," Rebecca said after introducing Amelia and Jules.

"Yes," the other woman said, hugging Rebecca. "I haven't seen you since Father and I moved to Sussex so he could continue his work. I'm just sorry my husband couldn't be here to meet you, since he's heard so much about our childhood exploits."

"Oh dear," Rebecca said, laughing. "Do you remember the time we convinced Phileas that you were in love with that ghastly boy Percy, and Phileas threatened him if he didn't leave you alone?"

Amelia laughed as well. "And then as revenge, Phileas told his father we really wanted sewing lessons but were too shy to ask."

As the three of them left the train station, Jules paused for a moment to admire the delicate Amelia, who looked even smaller beside Rebecca. But for Jules there was really no comparison, no woman had looked as beautiful since he met Rebecca Fogg.

Rebecca looked back. "Something wrong, Jules?"

"Not at all." He caught up with the two women, turning his mind to archaeology. "Your father, Miss Connor, is certainly well-published."

"You've read his work?" Amelia asked.

"Certainly. I thought his analysis of Pengelly's excavations at Torquay was very well argued."

Rebecca looked impressed and Amelia smiled. "Mr. Verne, are you interested in becoming an archaeologist? My father will be thrilled to meet a young man knowledgeable in the field."

"I think Jules' future lies elsewhere," Rebecca said firmly, drawing him to her side. Jules sighed happily as she slid her arm through his and they strolled through town, for once with no emergency to attend to.

* * *

Amelia led them through the town of Abbeville, past their lovely soaring cathedral, to a private dining room of the Hôtel Chépy, where they found three elderly men finishing their breakfast. The men were happily arguing about archaeology, oblivious to their entry.

"It's been over 20 years." A thin Frenchman leaned forward in his chair and waved a napkin as he spoke. "Why aren't they willing to even study my conclusions? Even Rigollot finally agreed, God rest his soul."

"Because," said an Englishman, "you know damn well if they accept that human-made tools lie beneath the bones of extinct mammals, then it creates a crack in Biblical literalism." The third man, his narrow face lined with white sideburns similar to Phileas', smiled, but stayed silent as he ate the remains of his eggs.

Amelia interrupted the discussion, "Gentlemen, please, my visitors are here. May I conduct introductions?"

The men leapt to their feet. Amelia said, "This is Miss Rebecca Fogg of London and Mr. Jules Verne, a student in Paris, here to see the excavations. Rebecca, Mr. Verne, this is my father, Sir Reginald Smith," and the Englishman who had spoken inclined his head, "the gentleman against the wall is our host Jacques Boucher de Crevecoeur de Perthes," and the Frenchman bowed, "and this is Sir Charles Lyell, the geologist."

Lyell smiled and said, "The rest of my colleagues are already at the site, shall we join them?"

Jules walked out with Lyell. "Sir, your _Principles of Geology_ was truly brilliant work. Are you working on something now?"

"Yes," Lyell said, "but the final shape rather depends on this trip to France. We are here as representatives of the British scientific community, investigating whether de Perthes has proven the antiquity of man."

"Really?" Jules asked. "It's about time."

Lyell smiled patiently at the much younger man. "Yes, de Perthes has suffered from the refusal of his colleagues to back him against the Church here in France. We are here to determine if English scientists should support him. Sir Reginald is blatantly partisan for de Perthes' work and the rest of us are undecided."

* * *

Hired carriages dropped the group off at de Perthes' excavations in the gravel pits of the Somme Valley. Rebecca and Jules were introduced to the other English scientists, Sir Joseph Prestwich, Hugh Falconer, and John Evans, who immediately dragged de Perthes off to a table covered in bones to discuss his findings. Sir Reginald took Amelia, Rebecca, and Jules around the site.

The autumn sun was stronger than Rebecca expected, seeming to bake the ground the workers were excavating. The smell of soil hung around her, almost like the scent of a freshly turned garden.

Tents were set up at a few points around the active portion of the site. They weren't there to protect people from the sun, Rebecca soon realized, but to protect the artifacts. When she leaned her head into one, she saw bones and stones carefully laid out on tables for cleaning and study.

Rebecca found Jules bent over three large brown bones half-buried in the ground. She smiled, he was such an adorable boy when caught up in one of his passions.

"These are from a mammoth?" Jules asked Sir Reginald, his face animated. "I've never had a chance to see them in person, just in Cuvier's books." Rebecca congratulated herself on the idea to bring him along. He needed to take a trip that didn't involve Secret Service business.

"Yes, they are mammoth," Smith answered Jules, "and if you'll look over here, I see one of the diggers has just found a hand-axe I can show you, too." The two bustled off, talking.

Rebecca felt abandoned, but Amelia laughed. "Don't worry, Father will bring him back, he just loves to show off sites, even sites that aren't his. Meanwhile, let *me* show you around a bit. It will give us time to reminisce a bit more."

Jules caught up with them a little later, afire with what he'd seen, voice raised and arms waving. "Can you believe it, Rebecca? The evidence here should be enough to convince anyone. And Sir Reginald has high hopes that he has convinced his colleagues."

"Start at the beginning, Jules," Rebecca said. "I'm not an archaeologist."

Jules began to explain the significance of the stratified gravel deposits and river terraces, but he was interrupted by a shout from the group of archaeologists and geologists.

"The last straw, I tell you," de Perthes was shouting, as the others tried to calm him down. "How can I work like this?"

Rebecca, Jules, and Amelia rushed over to find out what was wrong. A scowling Sir Reginald explained the problem. "Someone has been sabotaging the site, digging before the archaeologists arrive, stealing artifacts, planting fake artifacts."

"Rebecca, this is terrible, we have to do something to help." Jules was upset. Rebecca sighed as she saw her plan to give Jules a relaxing few days off destroyed, but she couldn't find it in her heart to refuse the boy when he looked at her like that.

"Wait here," she said to Jules and Amelia, although they followed her as she threaded her way through the distressed archaeologists toward de Perthes. The scientists stood in groups debating what they could do. If they were anything like Sir Reginald, Rebecca thought, she hoped they stayed out of it. She winced internally at the memory of Sir Reginald chasing poachers off his land. With high explosives.

"Monsieur de Perthes?" Rebecca called out, trying to get the attention of the annoyed Frenchman. He handed the artifacts in his hand back to his assistant.

"Yes?" he asked irritably. Then he actually looked at her. "I'm sorry, Mademoiselle Fogg, I'm under a strain at the moment. Can I help you?"

"Actually, I'm rather hoping I can help you." Rebecca paused, looking around her. No one seemed to be paying attention. "This is rather difficult to explain, but I...have had some experience in catching saboteurs."

Boucher de Perthes looked her over, his shrewd eyes assessing what he saw. Rebecca wasn't offended, rather she was surprised by how unskeptical he seemed of her claim. "Mademoiselle, if you believe you can catch the men who do this to my life's work..."

"I can." Rebecca said firmly.

"...then what can I do, but ask what your plans are?"

"*Our* plans," Amelia's voice said behind her, "are not yet formulated."

"But we will catch these villains," Jules said.

Rebecca gritted her teeth and turned slowly. "Please, leave this to me."

Amelia and Jules smiled identical smiles of glee. "And let you have all the fun?" Amelia asked. "Don't be ridiculous."

* * *

Rebecca argued long and eloquently for her greater experience and extensive equipment. And yet that evening she found herself handing out assorted tools and instructions to her eager troops. She thanked heaven she had, at least, been able to dissuade Sir Reginald from joining them.

"Are you sure I cannot convince the two of you to return to the hotel?" Rebecca asked.

"And leave you to patrol this whole area by yourself?" Jules asked. "I'd never hear the end of it from Fogg. I'll see you in half an hour to check in." He strode off.

Rebecca looked after him as he disappeared into the night. If anything happens to him, she thought, *I'll* never hear the end of this from Phileas.

"Rebecca?" Amelia's soft voice brought her attention back. "Is something wrong? Nothing's going to happen to Mr. Verne, we're just going to observe."

"Jules isn't very good at playing the detached observer." Rebecca shook her head to dislodge uncomfortable thoughts and strode off to her assigned stalking area with a brisk nod at her old friend. Amelia was looking at her with a most peculiar expression, which Rebecca chose not to interpret.

She felt a bit better as she slipped quietly along the hillside overlooking part of the site. The silence and the thrill of danger calmed her, made her feel at home.

The trees were just beginning to change, but luckily the leaves hadn't yet fallen. Rebecca knew how to move quietly over fallen leaves, but she was sure neither Jules nor Amelia could.

The plan, such as it was, was simple: keep to the trees, watch for unusual activity, and report sabotage to the local police who--with a description in hand--could capture the perpetrators. So why was she feeling so uneasy?

Rebecca leaned against a tree, which provided an especially good vantage point, and simply basked in the night for a moment. True, she had intended this to be a vacation for Jules, but she couldn't deny her happiness at being needed. Phileas enjoyed her presence, but he never seemed to...what was that?

Movement, on the wrong side of the site to be either Jules or Amelia. It was just too far away for her to see. Staying absolutely still, she tried to focus.

Whatever it was, it qualified as suspicious, so Rebecca ducked further back into the trees and began making her way closer.

As she approached, she heard the crunch of shovels hitting the rocky ground, and the crackle of rock and soil thrown aside. She slid between the trees and tried to get a look at the perpetrators. Then, the heard a sound that chilled her to the bone.

"Stop that!" Jules yelled, with that naïve outrage that so irked Rebecca at moments like this. She cursed silently as she tried to see what was happening. Next time, she was going to tie Jules to a post rather than let him come along. If only Phileas were here....

"I mean it," Jules said, his voice closer. "Stop digging or I'll..."

"...or you'll what?" a derisive voice asked.

"Why are you destroying this site?" Jules persevered, as Rebecca knew he would. She continued to edge her way closer, hoping to get Jules out of this situation with a minimum of fuss. Unfortunately, his back was to her and the two vandals were facing in her direction. At least since they were occupied with Jules, they hadn't noticed her. If Jules would just keep them talking a little longer, she could get into a better position.

As she moved, she cursed at herself for not being properly equipped. Not a single gun. What had possessed her to travel with only knives?

Finally, she was in position. She leapt at the man closest to Jules. She had him on the ground in moments. But the second man had unexpectedly pulled a gun.

Rebecca drew a knife and launched it at the gunman. The man took a wild shot.

She followed the knife with a kick. The hapless vandal landed on the ground, alive but miserable, with a knife in his arm.

When she turned to berate Jules, she saw him clutch his side. "Jules?"

"I'm all right," he gasped, his pale face belying his words. Blood trickled between his fingers.

"Jules, you idiot," Rebecca said as she grabbed him.

"Rebecca..."

"Shut up and sit down," she said, turning briefly to kick her first victim back into unconsciousness.

She pulled Jules' hand aside to assess the damage and sighed with relief when she saw how slight the injury was. "Damn it, you had me worried. What the hell am I going to do if you get killed?"

"I'm sorry, Rebecca, I thought he was going to shoot you." Jules gulped as Rebecca slapped a cloth from her pouch onto his side with a little more force than absolutely necessary.

Rebecca finished cleaning the wound as best she could and held a clean cloth on to stop the residual bleeding. She wanted to lecture Jules on his foolishness, but when she looked up, his expression stopped her.

She'd caught him in an unguarded moment, and his face told her things he'd never have said aloud. She wanted...she didn't know what she wanted. She touched his cheek.

Jules looked so hopeful. Rebecca closed her eyes for a moment and then slowly stood up.

"Jules, I'm so sorry." Rebecca looked at him, his face showing his understanding. Then she really looked at him. A boy he might be, but one who was strong and brave and true.

"I've never had a chance, have I?" Jules asked quietly. Rebecca realized she was seeing the man he would become, and she almost wished things were different.

"No." The word hung in the air for a few moments. "I *do* love you Jules, but..."

"It's all right, Rebecca," Jules said. "I suppose I knew it all along. You and Phileas belong together."

"You won't leave after this, will you? We need you, all of us."

"Need me? All I do is get in the way and ruin things." Jules looked away, and Rebecca knelt by his side again.

"Of course we need you. We need your mind and your courage, even if you're occasionally foolhardy." Rebecca smiled at him to soften the sting of that rebuke.

Rebecca held her breath as she waited for his answer. To lose his friendship would hurt her, Phileas and Passepartout, and she would never forgive herself if she'd bungled this.

Then he grinned at her, and if that was a tear she saw in his eye, he wasn't admitting it. "Of course I'll stay. Would I abandon my friends?"

"Oh, Jules," Rebecca said, and she threw her arms around him. They sat like that for a long time.

* * *

Eventually, Amelia showed up with archaeologists and police in tow. She had seen Jules approach the vandals and sensibly taken off to get help. The archaeologists were ecstatic at the immediate success of the stakeout and thanked the three of them effusively.

Police interrogations found the vandals were, in Jules' immortal words "anti-scientific twits" who wanted to discredit de Perthes.

The next day came and everyone reconvened at the site to continue work. Boucher de Perthes was happily displaying his discoveries to both his colleagues and his visitors.

Jules, of course, was thrilled and totally in his element.

"Writing on the tools?" Jules asked de Perthes, sounding dubious.

"Absolutely," de Perthes said, and Rebecca looked at the French archaeologist standing beside her. "I have not determined what the hieroglyphs say, but I will. I am also convinced that the bronze axes were a form of currency."

"Why do you think that?" Rebecca asked.

"Many of the tools are unused, but they are nowhere near where they were made. Someone carried them, but did not use them."

"Fascinating," Jules said.

As they spoke, Rebecca kept an eye on a group of soberly dressed men moving purposefully toward de Perthes and his companions. Amelia caught sight of them and looked worried, which was enough to concern Rebecca.

The newcomers stopped just behind Boucher de Perthes, who turned to confront them. "Mon Dieu, don't I have enough troubles?" he asked angrily of the sky. "The moment we solve one, you give me another?"

The leader, who Rebecca now saw was a Catholic priest, said, "We are here to put a stop to your heretical work."

"Your lackeys failed, so now you've come to fight in person, hmm?" de Perthes was spitting mad.

The priest looked mystified. "Lackeys?"

"The vandals you sent to destroy my site. The police have them now!"

"We have no need to employ vandals," the priest said. "We have the might of God on our side, and we are here to convince you to drop all this evolution nonsense and rejoin the Church."

"You haven't looked at what I've found here since I published my first book," de Perthes said, glaring at the men. "Human beings made the tools which killed these animals, hyenas and cave bears not seen in Europe in millennia."

"Impossible," an austere and angry-looking man behind the priest said. "The bones and tools have obviously been brought together by chance, either by God or by some earthly coincidence."

His companions nodded and Rebecca felt Jules bristle beside her. Before she could stop him, he strode into the fray.

"Earthly coincidence?" Jules asked. "That's your explanation?"

The priest eyed Jules dubiously. "Who are you?"

"My name is Jules Verne, and I am a scientist, not so accomplished as these men," Jules waved at de Perthes and company, who looked amused, "but I understand the science being done here. Which is more than I can say for you."

Rebecca touched his arm and said quietly, "Jules, perhaps now is not the best time..." but Jules wasn't listening. She was torn between a sigh and a fond smile at the familiar ferocity on his face. He looked ready to face down God himself, should the deity arrive to back up his representatives.

The priest and his companions looked even more sanctimonious. "It is not for us to question the history laid out for us in the Holy Scriptures," the priest said.

"Of *course* it is," Jules said. "The evidence is clear. Surely you can see that the river system here when these tools were made was vastly different than it is now. This valley proves there have been a series of geological changes that require much more time than is allowed by your theology. Human beings have lived in France for far longer than Bishop Ussher's 6000 years. Perhaps even as long as a million years!"

Boucher de Perthes was openly grinning by now and Rebecca decided to sit back and enjoy the show. For once, Jules had picked a target she didn't mind antagonizing. She and Amelia smiled at each other, leaned against a nearby rock and settled in for the long haul.

Jules glared at his opponents. "And this is not the only evidence. What about the bones from Neanderthal and Connstadt? You can't possibly deny the evidence for a variety of races of man. Long slow processes across vast periods of time were required for the differentiation of those races."

Amelia whispered to Rebecca, "Are you sure he doesn't want to become an archaeologist?" Rebecca shook her head firmly and vowed to keep Jules out of her way.

"I've heard those tales," the priest said, "but I find them hard to believe."

Jules rolled right over the other's objections. "What about the tools? Granted, they are crude, but you can see progress from the early cave and drift period stone tools to bronze hand axes."

"But the Bible says that we are fallen from the original high estate to which humanity was born. Therefore it is impossible for older people to be savages." The priest spoke with the confidence of the ignorant.

"And in any case," one of the priest's companions said, "everyone knows that savages don't become less barbarous without intervention."

Another man sputtered at Jules. "These animals and rocks must have been washed here by a flood that mixed them up. Utter nonsense. Why, you haven't even found any human bones," he finished triumphantly.

"But we will," de Perthes said, his amusement gone. "That argument has been used too often to obscure my work."

"You're right," Lyell said, stepping forward. "These arguments against your work are no longer valid. I believe that I speak for my colleagues when I say that we will report as much when we return to England. Your discoveries have the force of science behind them, and the scientific community in England stands behind you."

Boucher de Perthes blinked at the sudden support, and then smiled widely at the English scientists. "So I have convinced you."

Lyell bowed to de Perthes. "This isn't exactly how I had intended to make the announcement, but yes, we are convinced by the evidence amassed by you and the late Monsieur Rigollot."

The news spread rapidly around the site, and workers, archaeologists and visitors celebrated. The priest wanted to keep arguing, but suddenly there was nobody left to debate.

Rebecca watched Sir Reginald grab Jules and dance the younger man around.

"Well, all's well that ends well," she said to Amelia, settling down on a convenient rock.

Amelia tucked her skirts around her and joined her friend. "I foresee only one more problem."

"What's that?"

"What will your cousin say about this adventure?"

* * *

Phileas grumbled, "Rebecca, can't you keep Verne uninjured for a few weeks while I'm gone?" He leaned back in his chair on the Aurora, and tried not be jealous about Rebecca and Jules traveling together.

"It wasn't her fault, Fogg," Jules said. "I just got in the way."

"Well, damn careless nonetheless." Phileas stifled a grin at the outrage on her face. "I'm not certain I should let you two out of my sight."

"Do be quiet, Phileas."

"But on the bright side," Amelia said, "we were witnesses to history."

"History?" Phileas raised an eyebrow.

"Lyell and de Perthes are important," Jules said. "Their work will change the way we think about ourselves, the way we think about being human. People will be debating the implications of their work long after we are dead."

"If you say so, Verne," Phileas frowned. "But I'm not certain I value their work over your life, Rebecca. Was this escapade absolutely necessary?"

Rebecca opened her mouth to argue, but happily, Amelia beat her to it. "Phileas Fogg, you haven't changed a bit, still second-guessing your cousin."

Phileas glared at Amelia, and she and Rebecca smiled sweetly back at him.

"Which reminds me," Rebecca said, deciding that, for once, retreat was the better part of valor, "we did alert the French police, but they didn't seem too alarmed about possible danger to archaeological sites."

"Well *I* will be keeping an eye on my father lest he start setting traps for vandals and hurt himself," Amelia said, looking around the room. "Speaking of which, where is he?"

"I think Passepartout took him to look at some of his latest inventions," Jules said.

Phileas and Rebecca looked alarmed, and Amelia asked, "Is that bad?"

BOOM! echoed from the staircase. Phileas put his head in his hands, and Rebecca groaned.

**Author's Note:**

> Look everyone, it's the Energizer plot bunny, the plot bunny that wouldn't die, it keeps going and going...
> 
> I blame *this* story on my MA in applied anthropology, specializing in educating the public about archaeology. Well, I had to do *something* with it! Thanks as always to Aspen for beta reading (and the "anti-scientific twits" line) and thanks to Jill for writing suggestions. Thanks also to Mark L., Mark W., Paul, Don, Marian, Lynn, Carey, and Joe for teaching me everything I know about archaeology and a great deal I've forgotten.
> 
> Most of the history of archaeology seen here I gleaned from Bruce Trigger's "A History of Archaeological Thought." Almost everything else is from "A History of the Warfare of Science with Theology in Christendom" by Andrew Dickinson White, first published in 1896.
> 
> Sir Reginald Smith does not exist except in my mind. However, Lyell and the others *did* visit de Perthes as representatives of the British scientific community. Their eventual support for his conclusions was vital to the general acceptance of the fact that humans have been on Earth much longer than 6000 years.
> 
> However, that visit occurred in 1859, not 1861, and I have no reason to believe Jules Verne was there. Boucher de Perthes *did* suffer from some sabotage at Abbeville, but that was several years later. Other than that, I've tried to present the opinions of the scientific and anti-evolution communities of the day as accurately as possible. In case you are interested, de Perthes was probably right about bronze axes being used as currency, but he was wrong about finding writing on Stone Age tools.
> 
> Finally, when Jules talks about the "races of man," he is not referring to the unscientific classifications we call "race" today (e.g., black, white). He is referring to Homo sapiens, Neanderthals, the australopithecines, etc.


End file.
